Telperion was fully waxed by the time Findekáno heard the distant hoof beats of his father's horse. He walked down the stairs that he and Ambarussa had occupied that afternoon. It would be wise to greet his father outside the house, far from his mother's acute hearing. Nolofinwë was returning from his half-brother's house on business that was unknown to the rest of the family. Anairë questioned why he bothered trying to heal the rift that existed between him and Fëanáro when his brother obviously just wanted to isolate himself from the rest of the world and reality. She was always the reserved lady, tailoring her speech as to not offend or give the appearance of anything but a calm composed source of femininity. All matters concerning her estranged brother-in-law or his sons, however, were always handled with thinly-veiled hostility. Findekáno had to be as far as possible from his oftentimes overbearing mother if he wasn't to upset her. He wanted news of Fëanáro and his family from his father. One member of the family in particular.

            Even from a distance, Findekáno could tell that Nolofinwë's mood was dark. Relations between him and his half-brother were strained as of late. However, rumors swirling around both houses, and indeed most of Valinor, exaggerated the state of affairs. There was no hostility between the two, but there was certainly a sense of tension and unease. His face brightened as he noticed Findekáno approaching.

            They intersected halfway down the road leading to the house. Findekáno was sure that his father would be able to guess why he was outside in the middle of the night barefoot and wearing nightclothes.

            "Your mother will be sleeping by now, Findekáno. You needn't have come outside to talk about them."

            "What makes you think that was all I wanted? Is it so unusual for a son to anticipate his father's return home and want to greet him before he comes to the door?"

            Nolofinwë chuckled at his son's cheerful, if slightly sarcastic, manner. Findekáno was glad to see his father's smile again. It seemed to appear less and less lately.

            "Don't worry, I'll tell you everything." Findekáno held the horse's reins while the other dismounted. Casually leaning against his mount, Nolofinwë began to recount his visit, not going into great detail about anything specific. It was not long before Findekáno's interest had been piqued; the moment his father mentioned Fëanáro's sons, his head inclined the slightest bit and his breathing quickened almost imperceptibly.

            "What of them?" he asked. He cringed inwardly the moment he said it, thinking it sounded much too eager. "Of his sons?" Schooling his face into the expression of indifferent boredom it so often displayed, he listened while his father recounted his latest encounters with the seven sons of Fëanáro.

            Findekáno had never given much thought to Maitimo while growing up. He considered it a curious thing that his cousin had suddenly grabbed his interest. Since the day nearly ten years ago that Fëanáro and his first son had come to pay a visit, he had loved him. It was as simple as that.

            He and Irissë had been in the garden when Maitimo had come strolling down the path. To the devilish glint in his eyes, Findekáno could remember every detail of him. He had been dressed in riding clothes. Even covered in dust from the road, he seemed immaculate. He wore soft leather trousers and a tunic of deep blue that was made of some material he couldn't identify. It looked smooth, though, and soft; like it was made to run your hands over and feel the muscled chest right under the fabric. A copper glow hung halo-like above his head from the reflection of Laurelin's light off his red mane. Eru, how Findekáno had wanted to run his hands through that hair, just reveling in the feel of silk between his fingers.

            He still wanted to.